


As You Wish

by anyothergirl415



Series: A Quotable Verse [4]
Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-18
Updated: 2010-05-18
Packaged: 2017-10-26 23:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months later, Misha still quotes. Mike still loves. This is how it goes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Wish

"Listen! Do you smell something?"

That was what Mike heard as he woke. Despite the throbbing in his head from too much alcohol and the way his body ached from things he couldn’t remember – and wasn’t sure he wanted too – Mike smiled. Hearing his boyfriend’s voice first thing upon regaining consciousness kind of made him stupidly happy that way. It was just, this guy.

 _Misha._

There were things in the world and sometimes they sucked, hell, their country was in the toilet and most people were damn lucky to find any sort of respectable income. Mike had totally just graduated college without much hope for finding suitable employment in the near future. So he worked at a bar and made more money than he could have as a teacher anyway. He’d get there but right now, there were advantages to his job. Even if this particular hangover was suggesting otherwise.

Back to the world sucking though. Or well, the reasons why it didn’t. Not for Mike. Who had this super awesome boyfriend that he’d been with now for nine months. It was something crazy and if Mike spent too long thinking about it his eyes got all watery and he had to go lock himself in the bathroom for awhile because… yeah. Misha just hit him in places he couldn’t really describe. Jensen called him a love sick fool; Mike teased right back because he wasn’t the only one.

“Not sure that’d be a good idea.” Jensen’s voice and huh, Mike had kind of forgotten the epic J’s crashed at his place the night before. God, he hoped they didn’t have sex in his guest room. His parents were going to sleep in there next week for Christ’s sake.

“You used to be fun. You used to be warped and twisted and hilarious and I mean that in the best way - I mean it as a compliment!” Misha again and Mike smiled. Man, he had a way with his quotes, didn’t matter how many times Mike heard them, he still marveled at the man’s ability to weave them through so easily. It was followed pretty close with that never ending twinge of regret because it was _always_ this. Quotes.

Well, mostly always.

With time there were some occasions. Like Christmas when Misha had taken his hand, stared into his eyes in silence for ten minutes before finally whispering, “you make me believe, Mike.” That was all he’d said and Mike had spent hours that night with his arms around his lover, trying to determine what exactly he made him believe _in_ but it hadn’t gotten him far. Baby steps, or whatever.

A couple months later Mike was sitting in the living room, studying for an exam, when the front door burst open. He’d only just had time to brace himself before his lap was full of Misha, bright blue eyes shining at him. It had taken Mike five or so minutes to realize something was coming because Misha was doing that creepy staring thing and if you ever had the privilege – or maybe disadvantage depending on what you were prepared for – of being on the receiving end of a Misha stare, you’d know. “Mash?” He’d murmured, stroked his jaw, slid his fingers up through his hair just for kicks.

“It’s brighter when I’m with you,” Misha whispered. Mike knew it wasn’t a line, could tell from the tone. It was in a rush, like Misha had built up to it, stored up all his nerves and energy and let it out as a burst of thought. Then he collapsed against Mike’s chest and splashed his skin with kisses. And yeah, it made Mike’s heart do odd little flips in his chest, dancing some retro tango and stutter beat.

The last time was a couple weeks ago, when Mike had graduated. Misha was taking an extra semester just to _figure things out_ or whatever. Mike still wasn’t really certain how the man made it through his classes at all, let alone registering for the next set. He kind of imagined appointments with his guidance councilor had to be mildly amusing. Anyway, he’d just received his diploma and was trying to pretend like he wasn’t feeling a little disheartened that his sister’s high school graduation had just happened to fall on the same day, therefore keeping his family otherwise occupied. Mike missed them, wanted them to meet Misha, plans kept getting in the way.

They’d had a party, Jensen and him making some pretense like they were thrilled with the prospect of full-fledged adulthood, and Mike was feeling a bit more morose than he likely should have been. Until Misha grabbed him around the middle, dragged him into the closet and cupped his face between his palms. Fingers stroked warm and reassuring along his skin, lips brushing his own, soothing and gentle like it was meant to be. “Proud of you.” Misha whispered into his mouth, the hum of words against his lips and Mike’s knees almost gave out. That was enough to hear, Mike had a pretty good time afterward.

“I just think,” Jared was speaking up now and Mike was pretty sure he’d tuned out and missed part of the conversation because, because his brain was still a bit fuzzy like sleep. “This is something you should talk to Mike about. Just to be safe you know?”

Naturally, this had Mike’s eyebrows lifting. There was something Jared and Jensen knew that Misha should be telling him about? How’d that come about anyway? Nose wrinkling, Mike rolled off the side of the bed and considered whether he’d be sick for just a moment before deciding he’d be alright. Some bacon wouldn’t hurt either.

It kind of sucked to be required to pull clothing on. His apartment, he should be allowed to stroll around naked. Truthfully though he wanted Jared and Jensen to see him naked about as much as they’d want it, which was not at all. Gay friends or not, there were lines to be drawn. Plus Misha had left one hell of a bruise on his hipbone and that would get him teased for sure.

Almost stumbling out into the living room, Mike’s mind was not debilitated enough to not realize the conversation stopped with his appearance. It tugged a frown on his lips and he tried to wipe it away before it could pull anyone’s attention. “Water,” he grumbled and dropped down onto his couch, the cushion sinking into a familiar shape around him.

“Aw, poor baby,” Jensen cooed though the sheer lack of sympathy in his voice made the words untrue.

“Ackles, I will feel better soon and I will be fully capable of kicking your ass.” Mike likely should have put more _oomph_ behind the words if he wanted the threat to be taken seriously. Judging from Jensen’s snort, it wasn’t.

“I like you. Just the way you are,” Misha informed, thankfully returning with a cup of water and sinking down onto the couch beside Mike, stroking a hand softly through his hair.

“Did you just quote Bridget Jones’ Diary?” Jensen laughed, flopping down onto Jared’s lap after the man had taken up the large arm chair.

“Did you just admit to seeing Bridget Jones’ Diary?” Mike retorted in his boyfriend’s defense, smirking when Jensen blushed. “Aha, the gay, it’s almost translucent on you.”

“You should see him in bed,” Jared pointed out and grinned, dimples and all when Jensen smacked him in the chest. “Oh come on, that’s about as gay as you get.”

"Seems everyone in this family's got problems." Misha sighed and shook his head sadly but Mike could see the hint of a smile at the edges of his lips.

He decided, for now, to let the conversation he’d heard earlier slip from his mind. Whatever Misha should talk to him about, he’d get around to it. He always did. And sometimes you picked your battles. Not suggesting this was one but he thought, maybe.

-=-=-=-

The bar Mike worked at was only about ten blocks from his apartment and since it was summer, he preferred to walk. This particular Tuesday it was late afternoon, sunny and warm and Mike hummed happily, not minding the slight bounce to his step. There was something to be said about being ridiculously content with your life. Sure there were bits and pieces he’d change but as a whole, Mike was happy.

Tomorrow his parents were coming in and they’d get to meet Misha. They knew all about him, about his oddities, and were willing to accept it. Mike wanted his boyfriend to learn that there _were_ parents out there willing to be supportive and understanding. If things kept going like this, Misha would be an adopted family member of sorts and hopefully could grow from that.

On most days Mike would stop for coffee at a little shop halfway to the bar. Today he was running late so he simply glanced wistfully that way in passing. But his steps faltered for just a moment when he saw his boyfriend there. With some guy Mike had never seen before. A little wrinkle appeared between his brows before he frowned.

There were a million reasons Misha could be getting coffee with some guy Mike didn’t know. And he wanted to pretend he wasn’t the type of boyfriend to be jealous or concerned. He totally was though and it was going to nag at him the rest of the night. Especially since whatever the man was saying was making Misha laugh, one of those true, genuine laughs that Mike had been silly enough to think were exclusive to himself alone.

There was notably less of a bounce in his step as he continued his walk to work. It surely wasn’t what Mike’s mind had already supplied and he tried to reassure himself with that. He trusted his boyfriend, like he should, and thinking otherwise was only going to drive him insane.

-=-=-=-

"I sentence you to sudden, instant, and even immediate death!”

Mike laughed and shook his head, shifting a pile of mail from the table to the counter. “Misha, it’s not going to be that bad. My parents already adore you, seriously.”

Misha released a small sigh and shifted over to Mike’s side, leaning into him. "Life is pain, highness. anyone who says differently is selling something.”

“Hey now, you don’t really believe that Mash.” Mike’s hand slid to Misha’s cheek, curving over familiar skin, brushing with his thumb to coax a smile. “Really, I promise, it’s going to be _fine_.”

“You must chill. You must chill,” Misha whispered, more for his own benefit Mike was certain.

“Exactly.” Their lips came together in a soft kiss and Mike smiled for a moment when he stepped back. “Hey, yesterday when I was walking to work I-“

A knock at the door interrupted Mike’s would be question and he frowned for just a moment before putting the topic on the shelf, resolving to ask about it later.

Seeing his parents when he opened the door was enough to bring tears to his eyes. It had almost been a year, far too long, and Mike grinned. “Mom. Dad. It’s so very good to see you.” He stepped forward to hug them both, arms tightening around them each in turn. “Come in, come in, no need to get emotional in the hallway.”

His parents laughed as one and Mike, as he usually did when faced with them, took a moment to marvel how much they still loved each other. This was what he wanted, a lifetime of happiness with the one person who meant that meant most to you. Speaking of. “Mom and Dad, this is my boyfriend Misha. Misha, my Mom, Elizabeth, and my Dad, Frank.”

“Misha, it’s so lovely to meet you.” Elizabeth grinned over at Misha and instantly stepped forward, pulling him in for a hug.

From his angle Mike could see the surprise on his boyfriend’s face as he tentatively returned the hug and it made him smile, albeit a little sadly. Misha shouldn’t be surprised that parents could show this type of affection.

“Misha, we’ve heard a lot about you,” Frank offered his hand, smiling at him as they shook.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, even if you are my least favorite vegetable!" Misha nearly squeaked out the quote, face instantly flushing tomato paste red.

Mike pressed his lips hard together, stifling a laugh while his parents exchanged a long look and before sharing identical grins. “Some part of me thought just _maybe_ Mike was exaggerating about the quote thing. I’m almost glad he wasn’t.”

“My Misha is nothing but unique,” Mike insisted and stepped over to his boyfriend, pulling him into his side and holding him close.

“That was a mistake,” Misha mumbled, still flushing Mike imagined from head to toe.

“Not at all, it was the perfect kind of greeting,” Elizabeth insisted and dropped her purse on the table. “Look at this place, it’s actually clean! Michael, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Mike laughed, shaking his head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Misha mouth the word _Michael_ and it made his laugh louder. “I’m totally all over the cleaning. It always looks like this.” The identical looks of disbelief his parents gave him made Mike snort. “Okay, so not always, but still. I can put forth effort. I am nothing if not a charitable host.”

“Well then, we better take this charitable host out for lunch,” Frank laughed, grabbing their bag. “I’ll just take this to the guest room then we can go.”

“Oh let me freshen up. Nothing like a long car ride to make a girl feel filthy all over,” Elizabeth clicked her tongue in disapproval, following her husband down the hall to the guest room.

Still grinning, Mike turned to his boyfriend and ruffled his hair. “See now? That wasn’t so bad. I told you they already love you!”

“Everybody Wang Chung tonight,” Misha grumbled, flat and tinged with the note of embarrassment.

Pressing his lips softly to the corner of Misha’s mouth, Mike sighed. “It’s great Mash, really. This is all good, you’ll see.” Misha still looked disbelieving however so Mike slid in to deepen the kiss.

-=-=-=-

“Misha still has another semester of school, so until then I’ll be around here,” Mike shrugged, picking at the fries on his plate. It was probably parent’s second nature to enquire after employment though he knew they weren’t being judgmental. Just a little curious as to why Mike had gone to college for so long only to end up working in a bar.

“And what are you going to school for Misha?” Frank asked and smiled.

Mike had to give him points for trying but well, Misha wasn’t exactly in a position for answering. Truthfully, Mike couldn’t really answer so there was no real saving his boyfriend from this one.

“Data, data, data. I cannot make bricks without clay,” Misha shrugged and stuffed a large bite of pasta in his mouth, a smooth cover up in the works.

Frank laughed, Elizabeth joined in and Mike beamed. “Ain’t that the truth? How it is nowadays school only gets you so far. An inevitable few years until you face reality.”

“How terrible is wisdom, when it brings no profit to the wise,” Misha lamented, once he’d swallowed his pasta and Mike watched a real, bright smile pull up at his lips.

He was more than aware how much it meant to Misha whenever Mike went along with his quotes, worked it into the conversation like it was nothing out of the ordinary. It pleased Mike that his parents were attempting to do the same, thus cementing the fact that Mike had the best parents _ever_.

“Bar tending is actually great money,” Mike pointed out, waving a fry at nothing for emphasis. “It’s close enough to walk to and get a good college crowd. I get tips every time I work so that’s cash on hand. Plus I can officially be the life of any party with my drink knowledge so really, I’m awesome.”

“You Greeks take pride in your logic,” Misha mumbled, slight grin on his face.

“I’m not Greek!” Mike protested, elbowing Misha in the side.

“No, you’re Jewish, though not very good at it,” Elizabeth gestured to Mike’s plate, that had once been home to a thick bacon burger.

Mike snorted a laugh and shook his head. “I never said I was _practicing_ but come on, Rosenbaum, that’s like, screaming Jew.”

“Oh dear, this conversation has the potential of getting very out of hand,” Frank sighed, shaking his head despite the wide grin on his face.

“Frank,” Misha sighed and shook his head, “when’s this gonna stop?”

Mike watched his parents share another long look before they were laughing once more. “You worked my name in! See now, that’s impressive. And it fits. How do you _do_ that?”

“Mash has special skills of the super genius sort,” Mike informed and pressed his lips to Misha’s cheek, smiling against the heat of red skin. “You’re just some kind of amazing.”

“You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever met,” Misha said softly, turning until their noses could bump together.

“Aw now, that’s just, just so adorable.” Elizabeth sighed wistfully and Mike was pretty sure he caught the flash of her napkin coming up to dab under her eyes. He had to smile at that, even if his cheeks were getting a little sore.

-=-=-=-

It took Misha the better part of the first day to really accept the idea that Mike’s parents were okay with the whole thing. Eventually it happened though, Mike could see it in the way the man’s shoulders relaxed, the way he settled back into his chair as they played cards after dinner. He seemed to accept that Mike’s parents weren’t going to suddenly freak out and change all their opinions of him. Mike watched him slowly smile more, laugh louder, rest a hand on Mike’s thigh and squeeze softly. It was all kind of wonderful in that way it usually was with Misha.

There was only a moment’s hesitation when they were calling it a night, like Misha wasn’t exactly certain he should make it public knowledge that he would be joining Mike in bed. Of course, since his dad was awesome and all that, the man said through a laugh, “Bye bye boys, have fun storming the castle!”

Misha was practically glowing with excitement when Mike caught him around the middle and dragged him into the bedroom.

“Michael, come here, let me look at you,” Misha pulled Mike closed the moment the door was close, hands fluttering up to his jaw. Mike had a sneaking suspicion Misha had been waiting to use this line, like he just needed conformation that Mike stood for Michael or something, though Mike had kind of thought it was obvious. “You’re beautiful, beautiful, just beautiful.”

“I’ll never be able to watch the Godfather again,” Mike lamented, smiling despite the slight shake of his head.

Misha grinned and pulled at his shirt, tugging it up over his head and throwing it to the side. He pushed at the material, sliding the denim and cotton, kicking off clothing. Within minutes they were both naked and Mike wasn’t really even sure how that happened. Registered the lights were off now and Misha’s body was over his, flesh sliding warm and familiar together. All of it was quite mind blowing really, Mike was still awed Misha could make him feel so light headed.

“Tell me Michael, please,” Misha murmured and stroked a hand down Mike’s body, following it with his lips.

There were an assortment of things Misha could be asking for, Mike could probably spew a wide variety, but he had a weird sense what Misha might want. “I love you,” he murmured and slid his hands down Misha’s body, curving along the skin. “More than life. More than anything. Need you, always Misha. Need to be in you, now.”

“Oh, _Michael_.”

It was official, Mike would never be able to sit through the Godfather again without getting turned on but fine, whatever, small price to be paid. He rolled Misha beneath him, pressing him down into the sheets. Sometimes the need to possess Misha, if that were even possible, made Mike’s mind spin almost out of control. His fingers slicked within the man, spreading him even if it wasn’t needed and Misha bit his arm to keep from being too loud.

Like it always was, hopefully like it always would be, Mike felt he was complete, sinking into Misha, claiming him. He sucked hard kissed against Misha’s mouth so they wouldn’t be heard, drank in each moan as he slid roughly forward, pulled quickly back, drove them both into the mattress over and over until he had to break the kiss just to catch his breath.

When Misha came it was with the soft whisper of Mike’s name, nails scraping down his back, muscles cinching vice like around his cock. Mike sucked on his boyfriend’s neck, moaning into his skin, riding out the waves of his release with steady thrusts.

Curled around Misha’s body, Mike’s lips pressed gently into his shoulder and he thought, for just a moment, he could hear the man’s heart settling into a normal rhythm.

“Tell me Michael, please,” Misha whispered and their fingers threaded together across his chest, palm pressing into his heart.

Mike closed his eyes and breathed in Misha, all the familiarity and warmth, trust and compassion. All the things he knew and felt and always wanted to _be_. “I love you Misha.”

"When someone asks you if you are a God, you say _yes_ ,” Misha informed him with a sure to be smile on his lips if Mike had the energy to open his eyes. He smirked into his boyfriend’s shoulder and nodded. Simple truths there.

-=-=-=-

Sometime in the week following his parent’s visit Misha started getting abnormally quiet. In all honesty, he was always the most quiet of the group – a time and place for quotes Mike imagined – but the fact that it happened outside the social visits was kind of creeping Mike out a bit. More than a bit really but he was trying really hard to not think about it.

It didn’t help when Mike saw his boyfriend with the random guy from the coffee shop once more on his way home from the grocery store. He was driving past and there they were, walking close enough to bump shoulders. Misha said _something_ and the guy laughed, shaking his head slightly, long slightly curly hair falling across his shoulders. And really it was the smile still on Misha’s lips when he passed them that unnerved Mike the most.

When he got home, unloaded the groceries, and spent ten minutes staring at Misha’s beanie on the arm of the chair, Mike reached the conclusion that he needed to do something about this. Because he was well, a guy, and occasionally relationship retarded, he called Jensen instead of calling his boyfriend and asking for an explanation for what was sure to be a logical thing. Definitely.

“Hello Moose friend,” Jensen answered and Mike was confused enough to pull back his phone and check the caller ID. Just because, well, odd.

“Moose friend?” He double checked, his mind wasn’t really in the best place to guarantee he was hearing the right things anyway.

“Yes. What’s up?”

Alright then. “Uh, have you heard from Misha recently?” This was likely a dead giveaway that something else was underlying the question, Jensen knew him a bit too well, but what more could be said? Is my boyfriend cheating on me with some long haired, beefy looking dude who was way too attractive to be hanging around someone supposedly happily attached? Yeah, wasn’t going to fly.

“Not since he left no. Is uh, something wrong?” Yeah, Jensen definitely knew something was up and Mike was a little thankful he wasn’t jumping to conclusions.

“I just, it’s probably nothing. When did he leave?” Mike felt more than a little silly, being insecure and uncertain about his relationship. That wasn’t how it should be and damnit he _trusted_ Misha. Still.

“Few hours ago. Mike? What’s going on?”

Mike sighed heavily and sank down into the arm chair, curling his fingers around the beanie there. “I saw him out with some guy. And, I know, I know, it’s nothing. Whatever. Just, it’s not the first time I’ve seen him with this guy and I have no idea who he is and Misha was _smiling_.”

“Yeah, well,” Jensen hesitated, like he knew more but couldn’t say, wouldn’t say. It didn’t give Mike feelings of warm fluffy things that was for sure. “I’m sure he’s just a friend.”

“Jen?” Mike said quietly and he could hear his friend’s inhale, like he was bracing himself for what he knew was to come. “You’d tell me right? If there was someone else. I mean, a friend would tell me that kind of thing.” He thought back to a few weeks ago, waking up slightly hung over and hearing Jared’s _this is something you should talk to Mike about._ It sent his mind into overdrive.

“Mike, there’s _no one_ else, okay? Misha would never do something like that, come on, you know better than that.”

And Mike did, which accounted for the instant flare of guilt that swam up in him. “Yeah, I know. Just, you know something and you aren’t telling me and in my experience that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not. Okay? Yeah, I know something but I can’t really talk to you about it alright? So can you just, have faith in your boyfriend. He loves you.”

Mike cringed and shook his head. “I do have faith. Stop making me sound like an ass. I have the right to be a little concerned about this.”

“You shouldn’t be. Jared’s here, we’re going to get pizza you wanna tag along?”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll talk to you later.” Mike hung up before Jensen could say more on any subject. He didn’t want to hear any more about if he was being petty or insecure or whatever.

It was pretty ridiculous to worry. Even when Misha didn’t answer the first three texts, or when the call went straight to voicemail. Or later, three point five hours to be exact, when Mike _still_ hadn’t heard anything and another call got him nowhere.

When he went to bed that night with his phone clutched in his hands, Mike kept seeing all these horrible things, Misha and the long haired guy, Misha grinning at him, laughing. He didn’t get any sleep. No big surprise there.

-=-=-=-

“I like to think of Jesus as a mischievous badger.”

Mike had been sitting on his couch, staring at the blank TV screen for the better part of the morning now, so lost in thought he didn’t even hear the lock turning in the door or the subsequent click of it opening. He jumped slightly at the Misha-esque greeting and pushed up to his feet, blinking rapidly to clear blank black from his vision. Mike had promised himself he wasn’t going to jump in with questions immediately upon seeing his boyfriend.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Apparently he lied.

Misha looked unsure, pulling in on himself, hands tucking into his pockets. Sometimes, when he was looking for a quote to fit in the situation, his eyes would glaze a bit, stare off into nothing. Mike was familiar with the look. Though it had been awhile since the last time he’d seen it directed his way. Usually Misha had no issues rattling off some quote, a witty little one liner that Mike interpreted as he wished.

It unsettled Mike, the way Misha’s lips were thinning out. “Misha. I saw you. With that guy. Twice now and I know, I mean, it’s nothing, I _know_ but… I don’t even know who he is.”

If Misha was surprised by Mike’s information he did a good job of hiding it. Which meant either Jensen had warned him what was to come or Misha knew Mike had seen. Maybe he saw his car or something. Maybe he’d watched Mike drive by, _knew_ what he had seen and still didn’t call or text for the rest of the night. Mike’s heart clenched painfully and Misha stayed quiet.

“What’s going on?” Mike breathed, stepping around the couch, leaning against the back for some support. He pleaded with his boyfriend through his eyes, a silent wish for him to fix things, say _something_ , anything. “Misha, who is that guy?”

"I am Jack's wasted life." Misha murmured, gaze turning down to the ground. He was still only two steps into the apartment, there was a whole table between them and everything, Mike kind of felt the blow though.

Sometimes, Misha’s little quirk, it was just a thing. Another little piece of the puzzle that was his boyfriend. Yeah, it was complicated as fuck but love and sacrifices and all that stuff. Once before though, it had been too much for Mike to handle and that had almost been their downfall. They were both trying to get better about it, patience and learning and accepting someone for who they were.

This though. This wasn’t a circumstance in which Mike could simply shrug it all off. He needed answers, not one liners from _Fight Club_ no matter how awesome the movie was. “Please tell me what’s going on Misha because, I’ve been sitting here for the last day thinking you’re having an affair with some guy that has stupid long hair and ridiculously large muscles.” And if Mike felt a little self conscious because of the guy, he wasn’t really to be blamed. Mike was kind of scrawny only he drank too much so he might have just a tiny little gut. It was rapidly disappearing with his walking to work and all but still.

Misha shook his head rapidly, stepping around the table, stopping before he could close the distance between them though it made Mike ache more. If possible. “Why do you have to be like this?”

“Me?” Mike pushed up off the couch, almost placing his hands on his hips until he realized just how that would make him look. “What the fuck Misha? Give me something to go on and maybe I can stop being like _this_.”

It hurt, seeing the look on Misha’s face. It was fear, really. Mike was backing him into a corner because there weren’t quotes from movies for moments like this. Because this wasn’t a movie. This was real life and the longer it went on the more Mike thought maybe something had happened and he just didn’t know how he was going to live without Misha with him.

"If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?" Misha whispered and Mike could tell just by his tone that he was losing grip on everything.

“Stop quoting fucking Fight Club to me and give me a goddamn answer!” Mike snapped, defenses kicking in, regretting it instantly but failing to come up with an appropriate way to take it back.

He hated that Misha looked like he’d just been punched. Like Mike had slugged a fist into his jaw and stood back to watch it bleed. His eyes were wide and watery, fingers curling into fists at his side now and if he were a different person, Mike might actually wonder if Misha would punch him in return.

“Therapist.”

Mike stared, continued to, as he waited for the word to make sense. Therapist. _Therapist_. Misha was seeing a therapist? What? “What?”

“Chris. Chris is my. My therapist.”

The thought process in Mike’s mind went something like: Chris, the guy with stupid long hair, therapist, Misha’s therapist. “You have a therapist?” Misha nodded, Mike continued. “But… why? Why would… oh. The, the talking thing? The quotes.”

And it was totally, definitely good Misha was trying to get help for his issues but it didn’t explain the lack of phone calls, or why they were hanging out and stuff because therapists had offices and wore suits and didn’t look that good normally. Also Mike was kind of jealous because what if that meant Misha was talking to this guy? Like, really _talking_?

“Just wanna be better. For you.”

The timid little notes to Misha’s voice, the way he half stepped forward, all of it added up and built in Mike’s chest until he couldn’t think about being petty anymore because Misha was trying to fix himself. For _Mike_.

“Mash,” Mike whispered and finally closed the distance between them, arms wrapping around his boyfriend and pulling him in close, stroking his hair. “You don’t have to be better for me. I love you. Just like this. Always.”

Misha’s hands curled into the shirt along his back, holding tight, face burying into his neck. "Constantly talking isn't necessarily communicating,” Misha gasped into his shirt and Mike felt the shudder of his shoulders, the tell tale sign of tears.

Well, Mike didn’t really know how to respond to that because it was true, even if it was a quote. He could marvel at how he knew the difference but anyone who knew Misha, really _got_ him, could see it. “Okay,” he sighed softly and pressed his lips to Misha’s temple. “I want to help. If, if you want this. I want you to be doing this for you. Not for me. So if you want to get better, if it’s not just because you think it’ll please me, then, I want to help.”

Misha nodded against him, pulled back and let their eyes meet. Mike could see the truth there, the silent _yes, I want to be as normal as I’m ever going to be_. Then they kissed because Mike couldn’t help wanting the physical reassurance on top of everything else.

He had no idea how he could help, but he wanted to meet Chris, and he wanted to listen to anything Misha might be able to say to him. He wanted it all, every moment, every silly little quote. And this. Touching and holding Misha, making up with him in the best way possible, reassuring himself and maybe just a little making Misha forget about any long haired guys named Chris. Just in case.

-=-=-=-

“Surprise!”

Mike stumbled back from the force of the word, over forty people yelling it would do that to a person. He continued until he backed into the bar door and blinked a few times, trying to process the _what the fuck_ of the moment. It took a few beats for Mike to get past the whole, random appearance of most of the people he knew when he thought he was coming in to work an average shift.

Then he was being caught on both arms by the epic duo of J-love, or whatever. They were dragging him into the crowd and someone was hooking an elastic band around his chin, placing a pointy paper hat on his head. Someone else blew a noise thing at his face and Mike blinked, not admitting it but automatically searching the crowd for his boyfriend. Something told him Misha was behind a fair bit of this.

Or all of it.

“He looks so cute in his hat!” Jared pulled the string, snapping it on Mike’s jaw.

“He looks so cute shocked!” Jensen insisted, patting Mike’s cheek.

“I just want to _smoosh_ him.”

“I want to pinch his little cheeks!”

“Forget the cheeks, I’m going for the ass.”

“Move it dorkus,” Misha huffed and Mike thanked who-the-fuck- _ever_ that his boyfriend had saved him from the fucking double mint twins of gay love.

“Mash? What’s going on?” Mike looked toward him, smiling at the people who called out to him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Birthday,” Misha murmured into his ear, quietly enough no one else would be able to hear, right there releasing hot breath against his skin.

“That’s not for three days,” Mike pointed out but felt himself relaxing anyway. It went a long way in explaining the hats and the noise makers and well, the _surprise_.

Loud music crackled across the speakers and Misha spun him around on the dance floor, pulling him flush against his chest.

“Dancing?” Mike almost _purred_ and grinned. “Misha, are you trying to make me swoon?”

“Well, that's the thing about life, it’s the surprises, the little things that sneak up on you and grab hold of you.” Misha beamed at him, lips brushing in a pass.

When Mike looked to the side he caught Jared and Jensen watching, talking quietly, and his mind flashed back to that morning almost a month ago. “They knew about this huh? The boys? Is that the big secret?” Mike had assumed it was the Chris thing but afterward he’d realized Misha had issues telling _him_ about it, didn’t seem likely he’d tell Jared and Jensen over coffee.

Misha laughed, head tilting back, fingers curling along Mike’s back. “Mmhmm,” Misha finally murmured, pulling Mike close so their lips could meet once more. “Secret?” Misha breathed into his mouth and Mike shuddered because sometimes even the one little real _word_ did things to him. All he could really do was nod. He wanted to know any secrets Misha had to share. “I would definitely marry you.”

Pulling back a little, Mike blinked at Misha and pursed his lips. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

Misha grinned and shook his head slowly. “Wouldn’t. With a quote.”

Why that made Mike stupidly happy he had no clue, but it was kind of like a promise. That maybe, one day and not too far off, Misha would be brave enough to ask without a quote. And it was like the rest of their future was just there before them and Mike could latch onto it, cling tightly and agree to ride it out. Not that there was any real persuading needed. “Kiss me.”

“As you wish,” Misha chuckled softly, capturing Mike’s lips before he could laugh in return.


End file.
